Well the recent troubles in South Africa only started after Philemon and George died prematurely after leaving the local shebeen.They had imbibed an ungodly amount of alcohol and were in the middle of a brilliant argument about the various uses for tyres when they were knocked over by an overloaded taxi.
When they got to heaven they continued arguing as though nothing had happened, ignoring all help and advice. In frustration JC finally gave up trying to find them gainful employment and sent them to Santa to help with his Christmas lists. (Santa unfortunately owed JC a few favours and had no choice in the matter really).
On arrival it was decided that they would work in the stock room, collecting all the presents requested on the Christmas lists. Unfortunately, unbeknown to well, everybody, George and Philemon were deaf as doorknobs…
The lists were no longer written but voice recorded in keeping with the times.
The first message to come through was from the ANC:
‘Hey George do you know what ANC stand for? do you, do you?’ guffawed Philemon.
ASSHOLES NEVER CAN! George shrieked with glee!
‘Right you are Georgie boy, right you are!’ Philemon chortled happily.
The ANC request was simple:
‘We want more fat in the bank’
‘Coming right up,’ said Philemon and went off to the back of the factory to fetch a wheel of gorgonzola.
‘Now be careful Philemon’, said George, ‘those rats are feisty, just throw the cheese in the number 2 chute and jump out of the way quickly’.
a 100 000 rats suddenly came barreling out nowhere and jumped straight in the chute.
‘We did it!’ yelled Philemon, ‘More Rats in the Ranks! High five Georgie Boy!’
Pleased as punch they pressed ‘The Button’ for the next message.
It was from COPE
‘Make COPE To Be In Charge’
‘Hmmmm’, thought George, ‘Good idea!’ and off he ran to make a call.
Before long there was a knock at the door. As George opened it an aromatic cloud of smoke billowed in.
‘Hello Bob, thanks for coming to help’, Philemon and George both chorused happily.
‘No problem mon, I be born to help, Jah rule yeah!’
‘So how much you be wanting then? asked Bob, ‘I be having 25 bales of the godly green mon. It be irie to give it all’.
‘Great’ said George, ‘ just pop in down the number 10 chute if you please’.
‘No problem brother, Babylon bwoys are gonna be too busy with the bubble to politrick after this!’
‘Make Dope To Be Large‘, Yippee! another happy customer,’ they yelled. Feeling puffed up with success they decided to process one more order for the day.
The last message was from Helen Zille at the DA
‘Suprise me! I’d like a large amount of blue to adorn my offices with.’
‘Easy, Peasy!’, they both exclaimed.
Philemon and George clapped their hands in excitement and dashed off to the nearest porta potty…
Oh shit, said Bob this not gonna be irie…………